I need a financial advisor. Or a bookkeeper (did you know “bookkeeper” is the only word in the English language with three double letters in a row?). In either case, having one cannot possibly exceed the amount of money I spend on overdraft charges and related bank fees. I am truly missing some vital piece of information explaining why what I budget out on paper never matches up to what actually happens in my life. I’m not stupid, I swear. I’ve had a raise and acquired another job; I should be comfortable, not scrambling. And yet, there I was as Target, listening to the clerk tell me my $2 debit card transaction was declined. Fortunately, I had an alternative option: using my Wells Fargo card, as that bank’ll approve anything and screw you over for it later. I need to get a grip. I need someone else to handle my money since I’ve proved so incompetent. I’m good at lists, good at math, good at understanding how things work. Why is properly budgeting so continually problematic?

In better news, I surfed yesterday. Camel Rock. Beautiful, clean, small swell. I hustled out, caught a few fun rights. But my wetsuit is so, so, so beyond worn out. The cold permeated every bit of me. I actually skipped surfing today because I couldn’t bear the thought of suiting up in that damp, holey suit and facing the icy air, chilly water. I keep thinking, “One more paycheck,” but then Christmas happened and now I’m still catching up.

Thursday night, I’m again hosting spoken word at Muddy’s Hot Cup. Wouldn’t it be nice to write something new for that?

At least I have some good interviews set up for the Eye over the next couple weeks. I thought I’d start the year off with a resolution to write a kick-ass column every week, but so far, that hasn’t happened. At least there’s always hope, right? Just like another wave comes along, so another paper does, too – damn, but surf metaphors are always so corny.

Nick’s doing well. We’ve had some low moment this past week, but not enough to change anything. He and I sandboarded twice over the weekend. What a blast! Falling, which I did every time, wasn’t too bad, since the sand was soft. Not that I wasn’t sore the next day – I was! But I didn’t break anything. The “run” is a gradual slope, not too steep, but I get going fast enough to get a rush. The speed and height are intense compared to surfing, and I think this whole sandboarding thing might be helpful. Suddenly, snowboarding has appeal. Assuming there’s a lodge nearby.